


First Officer

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-11
Updated: 2009-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Traditionally, a first officer tends to their captain's needs--all of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Officer

“Yes, captain.”

Spock nodded and took a deep, steadying breath before turning to bend over the desk. He unfastened his slacks, but when he hooked his thumbs into the sides to lower them, they were wrenched down roughly before he had the chance.

With the fabric around his thighs, his torso leaning awkwardly over the mahogany expanse, he felt utterly pinned. He was momentarily struck by the incongruity of the formality of his uniform and his nakedness, but he quickly reminded himself that they were one and the same. Part of the pride of service was submission to duty, to the will of his superior officers. He felt his body begin to respond to the idea, albeit only a little—the awkwardness of the position, the unnatural cold of the Terran’s quarters, and his focus on the captain did not leave much room for arousal.

He heard the squeak of leather behind him as the captain got to his feet. There was no touching, except Pike’s hands on his hips to balance himself. The entry was fast and brutal. It left no room for misunderstanding about the nature of this encounter, that Spock’s body was no more than an object, the vehicle of the captain’s release. Spock was grateful he’d had time to lubricate and stretch himself before their meeting.

Pike set a leisurely rhythm of firm, deep strokes and Spock relaxed as best he could, willing his body accommodate the intrusion. He felt his own cock harden and lengthen, even as his thighs strained and his back protested the position. The cock inside him pressed against a spot that stoked his arousal, and his felt himself gripping the edge of the wood to steady himself. And each stoke pushed his flesh into the unforgiving surface of the desk, a location whose symbolism was also not lost on him.

The captain always took a long time, whether out of self-control, or as a result of his age, or stress, Spock never knew. He always felt a mixture of relief and disappointment when Pike was close to finishing—the increased tempo, the tightening of his grip and then the rush of warm ejaculate inside him.

Pike allowed himself to soften before gently pulling out of Spock’s body. It was the only part of these meetings that even remotely resembled tenderness. Spock let himself breathe; only then realizing he’d been more or less holding his breath. He could hear the quiet fumbling of the captain putting himself back together behind him. Come dripped down to his thighs, but he knew better than to clean it up, no matter how much he wanted to.

“That will be all, Spock. You’re dismissed.” The words were formal, but a bit breathy around the edges. Spock recognized from their tone that he had satisfied his captain well, just as he recognized other times, when he had not been enough.

Spock pulled up his slacks, fastening them, and willed his aching muscles and his inconvenient arousal not to disrupt his military bearing. He smoothed down the blue fabric of uniform tunic and turned to give a smart salute.

“Yes, Captain,” he said. “Thank you, Captain.”


End file.
